


Swearing Fealty

by kinky_fucker



Series: I like my pairings rare [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boltwin, Boys Kissing, Deepthroating, Guilty Pleasures, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, King Joffrey Baratheon, King's Landing, M/M, Massage, Mentioned Joffrey Baratheon, One Shot, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post - Red Wedding, Rare Pairings, Short One Shot, The Red Keep (ASoIaF), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_fucker/pseuds/kinky_fucker
Summary: Roose Bolton had been summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty before King Joffrey Baratheon. But first he paid Tywin Lannister a visit...
Relationships: Roose Bolton/Tywin Lannister
Series: I like my pairings rare [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932403
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Swearing Fealty

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't even know. But it's another rare pairing so :p

Down from the cold North Roose had ridden. He had barely any time to settle into Winterfell before a raven arrived. It bore the proud lion of the Lannisters and was a summon for an official swearing of fealty before King Joffrey - though his Hand, Lord Tywin, had signed it. Leaving his bastard behind, he worried not for the long ride.

Roose Bolton did not worry.

When he finally reached King’s Landing, he noticed how the Lannister red cloaks seemed uneasy around his household guard. _Good,_ he thought, though his pale eyes slid his impassive gaze from the red cloaks and up to scan over the Red Keep. He was ushered inside and into an already prepared guest room. It was late at night and he was tired from the road, so sleep came easily for him. 

* * *

It was the next morning, early before most of the Keep awoke, when he entered the Hand’s solar. Tywin sat at his desk, intently writing a letter. Roose sat in the vacant seat and began to look around the chamber. It reflected the man that owned it, being practical and organised, but his gaze soon rested on Tywin himself. Those emerald eyes stared down at the parchment, ringed fingers curled around the quill as it quietly scratched away. Those broad shoulders were unmoving beneath the dark doublet he wore.

“You look tense, my Lord Hand,” Roose commented in that whispering voice of his.

The quill stopped mid-stroke and the green orbs rose to meet the pale ones. “Your loyalty is not in question, Lord Bolton. You have served the king and his realm faithfully.”

Roose thought back to all those times of _faithful service_ and the corner of his mouth twitched up. “Then why summon me to swear fealty? We are all much too busy for such a thing.”

“The king has ordered it. It’s merely a formality,” Tywin dismissed, returning his attention to the letter. 

Roose rose from his seat and wandered around the desk, coming to stand behind Tywin. His hands were on the other’s broad shoulders, massaging gently. Tywin snapped his head around to look at him.

“As I say, my lord, you are rather tense,” Roose said, their faces so close that their noses touched slightly. In the blink of an eye, Tywin had spun around and grabbed ahold of the other man, bringing him in for a bruising kiss. Roose had only known affection in the most abstract of ways and so could only guess that couples regularly clacked teeth together in the throes of passion. He allowed Tywin to control things, reciprocating enough to appease him. He was soon pressured to sink to his knees and he did so, kneeling between Tywin’s open legs. A bulge was already straining against the Hand’s breeches and he was skilled in undoing the laces. “My my, that’s quite the blood rush. Leeches would soon sort that out, my lord,” Lord Bolton said upon seeing Lord Lannister’s hard cock.

“Don’t talk of your damn leeches!” Tywin hissed, a hand tangling in Roose’s shoulder-length hair. The pressure on the back of his head indicated how desperate Tywin was and so Roose opened his mouth, taking in the head of the cock. Hisses and mutterings of how warm and wet he was tumbled from Tywin’s mouth. The volume cranked up once he began to bob back and forth along the length. In truth, Roose didn’t mind this treatment. It was advantageous politically speaking and, while he never got off during these interactions, he did often walk away with hoarser. It was a strange side effect but his post-session hoarseness added something to his voice that had an inexplicable effect over people. 

He was brought out his thoughts by Tywin’s growling to go ‘deeper’ and to ‘take it all’. Any louder and he’ll wake the whole Keep, but Roose did as he was bid. He never realised how much he lacked a gag reflex before the lion delighted in battering his uvula, even more so when he knew Roose could take it without complaint. 

Picking up the pace, he took the entire length in, squeezing his muscles around the parts in his throat. Swears began to pour from Tywin, showing just how close he was. A hand kept Roose in place as seed flooded his mouth and throat. Tywin roared, his legs thrashing in pleasure, rings catching Roose’s long hair and tugging hard. He was held there as the euphoria swept through the Lannister, head rolling back in his seat. And then, when the pleasure subsided, the storm arrived. Roose was pushed harshly away, falling to the ground but rising under Tywin’s glare. _Guilt must put him in these foul moods,_ he decided.

“Is this how the North conducts business?” He spat, a steely edge to his voice.

Roose slowly rose till he was standing. His pale eyes looked down at Tywin. “We know exactly what the South likes,” he replied, voice already hoarse.

“Out, damn you, and go swear fealty to your king,” he commanded.

Roose took his time to leave the Hand’s solar, crossing the room leisurely before pausing by the door. “My touch did you the world of good, my lord. You seem much less tense,” he said over his shoulder. Tywin opened his mouth to protest and only growled when no words could be hurled back. Lord Bolton opened the door and descended the stairs, wondering when he would next be called to be of faithful service.


End file.
